Ah beh beh beh

This morning’s prompt was, “The possibilities are endless.” The little essay that I read to go with the first four prompts of the month was about being vulnerable. I started off with a visceral prose poem about the endless possibilities of exposing yourself through your art. One of the images was the “I” in the story not creating true art, that came from the gut, but rather from her cast-off hair. How she made sculptures, like topiaries, out of it, supporting the pieces with flimsy straw framework. How any of them that showed real life or any spark of creativity were quickly surrounded by the gentlemen and ladies at the garden party where she was displaying them — how they’d crowd around the piece, taking up all the air, giving it no room to breathe or grow, then walking quickly away with titters when it withered and died.

This led to another Ester’s park story, about the fabulous Mrs. E, and her tea parties and magical topiary, but again, it was more about vulnerabilities than possibilities.

I’m quite pleased with the story. Either this afternoon or tomorrow I’ll start typing it up. It’s a pretty complete story. I took my time writing it, letting it breathe, and really, the story just growed from the initial concept. I was completely immersed in story land while I was doing it, spent hours living there. Hence the subject of today’s post. I don’t know about ya’ll, but when I finish such a piece, or spend such an intense time writing, when I come out of it, I feel like a blithering idiot. I can type, some, but unless it was family, I don’t think I’d answer the phone right now — just all out of words.

Comments (12)

  1. You get extra points for taking prompts that seem to range from cliche to mundane and turning them into gold.

  2. You get extra points for taking prompts that seem to range from cliche to mundane and turning them into gold.

  3. Out of curiosity, do you ever find yourself afraid of that level of intensity when writing?

    • Hmmm. Yes and no. I fight it, sometimes, knowing how obsessed I’ll get, how deeply I’ll go into story land, how much I’ll withdraw from real life. With the stories it’s a bit different, and I don’t fight so much, as I know it’s short term. I actually welcome it currently.

      With novels, it’s harder, because I’ll get into that story place and I’ll stay there.

      So it isn’t so much fear as avoidance, or fighting it.

  4. Out of curiosity, do you ever find yourself afraid of that level of intensity when writing?

    • Hmmm. Yes and no. I fight it, sometimes, knowing how obsessed I’ll get, how deeply I’ll go into story land, how much I’ll withdraw from real life. With the stories it’s a bit different, and I don’t fight so much, as I know it’s short term. I actually welcome it currently.

      With novels, it’s harder, because I’ll get into that story place and I’ll stay there.

      So it isn’t so much fear as avoidance, or fighting it.

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